


no need to be brave

by canticle



Series: Pegoryu Week 2018 [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, bathing together, implied panic attack, post-interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canticle/pseuds/canticle
Summary: This bathroom is full of broken things.





	no need to be brave

**Author's Note:**

> based on this beautiful art by rodi!!!!!!! thank you so much for letting me write for it!!!
> 
>  _And all the quiet nights you bear_  
>  _Seal them up with care_  
>  _No one needs to know they’re there_  
>  _For I will hold them for you_  
>  _-i will,_ mitski

 

 

 

 

 

 

> i drew this sketch months ago and never posted it, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE WROTE A BEAUTIFUL AKIRYU FIC BASED ON IT SO IM FINALLY POSTING IT HERE AND EFFING ASCENDING [pic.twitter.com/5va4vT1cF2](https://t.co/5va4vT1cF2)
> 
> — rodi @

The sound of water dripping echoes through the bathroom. Ryuji’s been meaning to fix the leak in the sink for years, but he’s never gotten around to it. This bathroom is full of broken things.

 

“A-ah…..not so warm.”

“Sorry, sorry….is this any better?”

“Mmm...thanks.”

 

There’s been a crack in the porcelain base, sealed and re-sealed with shitty caulking that peels off after a year or two. The water beads up slowly, inevitably, until gravity takes its toll and sends the drops falling to land in the plastic bucket haphazardly shoved beneath.

 

“Here...I’m takin’ this off now. Lift your arm up—”

“Oka— _ow,_ Ryuji, ow, ow, _ow, ah—”_

“Sorry! Sorry, shh, shit, sorry, sorry, hold on, hold still…there.”

“ _Ah…hhhh…”_

“Shh…. goddamn.”

“Luh— looks bad?”

“’S not pretty. Shh, don’t talk.”

 

They never replaced the mirror that his dad cracked one night. It’s just the bottom right corner, a web of cracks that stretch upward and outward, reaching hungrily. He measures ‘em sometimes when he’s feeling real low, but they haven’t budged for nearly a year and a half now. The coffee mug that left the cracks lives in the back of a cupboard now, handle sloppily taped on, only used as a last resort.

 

“ _Ohh……_ ”

“That hurt?”

“No...feels good— _ssst, ah—”_

“Back there too? Let me see… Holy hell, Akira, I think shampoo’s gonna be outta the question for a bit.”

“No, please, my hair feels so gross…”

“You’ll feel worse with soap in your sore bits.”

“I hate it when you’re the reasonable one. Can you just— yeah….”

 

The paint’s been scraped off the medicine cabinet beside the mirror for years now, dents littering its surface, chunks of the wood missing. Same deal as the mirror, but much less fragile. The bastard always did have too good a sense of aim, till it mattered.

 

“Gonna unwrap this now, okay?”

“Be careful, careful, _hnn—”_

“Easy. Shh….see, all done. Shit, that’s nasty.”

“Sh-shut up, you’re gonna gi-ih-ive me a complex.”

“Poor little pretty country boy.”

“Nuh—not so pretty right now.”

“Shut it, Kurusu, you’ll always be pretty to me.”

 

The toilet paper holder’s been broken since they moved in. Ryuji’s got no clue why they never replaced it; it’s just the center insert that’s missing, the spring-loaded piece that clicks in, but it’s not like it’s a hardship to reach behind themselves to where the toilet paper rests on top of the tank. In the scheme of things, it’s not the biggest deal.

 

“Easy with the nails, man.”

“Sorry— sorry, sorry… it hurts…”

“Shh. I know. I’m gonna spray you down now, okay? Gonna start up near your shoulders?”

“Yeah. Go for it.”

“It’s gonna hurt, but you’re gonna feel a hell of a lot better.”

“I know.”

“You ready?”

“Mmm.”

 

He’d broken the toothbrush holder when he’d set it down too hard one evening, chipped a huge flake off the side. It shows stark and beige against the sunshine yellow glaze. A monument to his lack of self-control, to his anger. It’s always rough against his fingers. Gentleness was never in his nature; it’s something he’s had to learn.

 

_“Hhhh—”_

“Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay. Deep breath. Akira. Breathe for me. Come on, babe.”

“I’m okay— I’m okay— “

“Yeah, you’re fine. It’s okay. Do— d’you know where you are?”

“Bathroom—”

“Yeah, my bathroom, at my place, it’s just me, it’s just me ‘n you, you’re okay, you’re safe—”

“Okay— okay— _hhnnn,_ not near the face—”

“Alright, shh, breathe…”

 

There’s rust on the tub faucet that he’s never been able to scrub away completely. Eventually he’ll have to replace the whole thing, but it holds together well enough. It’s attached to an old and creaky pipe, though, rattling fit to burst if he turns the hot water too high, and then the upstairs neighbors thunk on the floor to complain. He’s gotten used to taking lukewarm baths.

 

“No, no no no _no_ —”

“Akira, Akira, babe, shh, it’s me, I’ve got you.”

“I— Ryuji, I don’t want— I don’t want it, don’t let them—”

“I _won’t,_ I promise, I’ll— I’ll— I’ll fuckin’, I’ll kill ‘em, I’ll wreck their shit for doin’ this to you—”

“Ryuji—”

“If anyone ever lays another hand on you, I, I’ll—”

“Oh...no, no, don’t...hey………...Ryuji...don’t cry.”

“‘M not _cryin’,_ man, I just— I got soap in my eye—”

 

The tub always drains too fast, unless Ryuji constantly tops it off. He rarely bothers; he doesn’t like sitting and soaking for too long anymore. There’s a vulnerability in the action that leaves a sick, slick taste in the back of his mouth, layered across his tongue like cigarette ash. He can’t move fast enough. Not that he needs to. Not anymore.

 

“Shh….”

“Don’t _you_ tell me to shh, man.”

“I’ll tell you whatever I wanna tell you.”

“You feeling...okay?”

“Mmm.”

“Ready to get your back?”

“...mmn.”

“Do you...wanna hold on to me?”

“...If you wanted a hug, you could’ve just as—”

“Shaddup!”

“Heh. _Hn._ ”

“Then don’t laugh if it hurts, dummy…”

 

This bathroom is full of broken things, but the only one Ryuji cares about is the one in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S MIDNGIHT SOMEWHERE AND I'M A MADMAN, CRAZED WITH MY OWN POWER


End file.
